


My First Kiss Went A Little Like This (And Twist)

by thatdamneddame



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Fail Wolf, Failboats, First Kiss video, Fluff, Getting Together, Hale Family Bonding, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1386151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdamneddame/pseuds/thatdamneddame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is, unfortunately, the single greatest kiss of Derek’s life. And it’s entirely Laura’s fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My First Kiss Went A Little Like This (And Twist)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettyasadiagram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyasadiagram/gifts).



> For prettyasadiagram because she literally has no idea what I'm saying when I tell her "You're my boy blue!" Also because she helps me write these things like it's a context-less choose your own adventure book on skype after incepting me into writing this shit for her. Thanks for beta-ing your own thing, boo!
> 
> Fic based off those Kiss a Stranger vids going around. Here's the [original](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpbDHxCV29A) and here's the [real person remake](http://vimeo.com/89189517) that directly inspired this fic. 
> 
> Title from 3OH!3's "My First Kiss"

If you ask Derek, it’s Laura’s fault entirely.

“Well, what does the profile say?” Laura asks, clearly three seconds away from halving the number of siblings she has.

Cora flips through the notes. “Anything goes, just don’t tell my dad.” She looks up from the notes to Laura. “Whatever the hell that means, I’m not doing it.”

Neither Laura nor Cora are particularly good at puppy dog eyes, but Derek caves instantly. “Fine. But you guys owe me.”

Laura smiles at him winningly as Cora mouths, “You did this to yourself,” over Laura’s shoulder.

Whatever. It’s totally Laura’s fault.

 

***

 

When Laura had said, “Guys, I have the best idea,” Derek suspected that she was going to do something detrimental to his dignity, but he didn’t think it would come to this.

Cora, because Derek suspects she might actually be the smartest of the Hale’s, hadn’t even paused her game of _Call of Duty_ , just said, “Whatever it is, I’m not doing it,” and, “Oh you motherfucker, I am going to _scalp you_.”

Derek was torn between thinking it was good for Cora to have an outlet in gaming and recognizing that she had some fairly violent tendencies when left to her own devices. He resolved to deal with Cora later since Laura was still looming over him, grinning like a mad woman and texting furiously.

“What’s your big idea?” he asked, already resigned to it.

Laura turned her phone around so Derek could see the screen. There was a video of very attractive hipsters making out with each other. Derek was right, no good would come of this.

 

***

 

Because Laura is an asshole, she blindfolds Derek.

“It’s not because I’m an asshole,” she explains, pulling way too tight on purpose. “Everyone’s getting blindfolded. It’s part of the thing.”

Derek attempts to loosen the knot so he won’t lose all circulation to his face, but Laura slaps his hands away. “No peeking,” she chides.

Somewhere in the corner he can hear Cora laughing at him.

 

***

 

“Oh, wow,” is the first thing the guy says. He has Disney princess eyes and a smattering of moles over his porcelain skin. Derek feels like he’s been dropped into the twilight zone, and he desperately wishes that his sisters were not here.

“Derek,” Derek says, holding his hand out to shake.

The guys laughs at him, but shakes his hand. “Awfully formal considering we’re going to be sucking face soon. Stiles.”

“My sister’s the director. She needed a last minute sub. I was the camera guy,” Derek explains. Stiles keeps smiling like this is the greatest thing ever. Seriously, Derek has no idea why so many people signed up to kiss a stranger, because Derek just sort of wants to melt into the floor and disappear.

“So nothing below the belt then?” Derek must make a face because he can hear Cora trying not to laugh and Stiles adds hastily, “Kidding. Just kidding. We won’t do anything you don’t want to. You lead, I’ll follow.”

“I didn’t even sign up for this until five minutes ago,” Derek points out. Under duress. Because his sisters are the worst.

“Fair point,” Stiles says, and then leans forward and kisses him.

 

***

 

It is, unfortunately, the single greatest kiss of Derek’s life.

Stiles’s hands are warm on Derek’s face. His lips are soft and his mouth is hot and Derek licks the smile off his face just because he wants to know how it tastes.

He runs his hands down Stiles’s arms, across his back. Stiles’s shirt is the softest flannel Derek has ever touched. Underneath, Derek can feel biceps that he definitely wasn’t expecting.

Stiles nips at Derek’s bottom lip, and when Derek sighs, Stiles’s pulls back and laughs.

“I don’t know about you,” he says, breathless, mouth red, “but that was pretty fricken great.”

Derek can feel his sisters’ eyes on his back. “Yeah,” he agrees, “it wasn’t bad.”

 

***

 

Stiles loiters around the craft services table after Laura hustles them off stage for the next couple to go.

“So, is your sister really the director?” Stiles asks, munching on a carrot stick. Derek is trying not to fixate on the lines of Stiles’s throat.

Derek gulps down his coffee, hoping it will bring clarity, and nods.

“That’s cool.” Stiles says. He picks through the assortment of juice boxes Cora had put out as a joke and selects Very Berry after what seems to be a pretty long internal debate. “So does your sister pimp you out a lot?” he asks, stabbing at the juice with the straw. His face is set in solemn contemplation, but Derek suspects that Stiles is actually an asshole.

“All the time,” Derek sighs. It figures that karma would pay out like this—Derek was an asshole as a kid, and now he’s surrounded by assholes as an adult. He would have thought being blood related to Laura was punishment enough

Stiles laughs, clearly delighting in Derek’s pain. “Remind me to send her a fruit basket or something, then.”

Derek pours himself another cup of coffee. He deserves it.

 

***

 

At the end of the shoot, Laura knocks her shoulder against Derek and says, “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I’m never helping you again,” Derek tells her firmly instead of answering.

Cora drops the camera bag at Derek’s feet. “I thought you enjoyed yourself. Here, you’re carrying this. It’s heavy.”

Cora could probably bench press Derek if she tried, but Derek will take carrying heavy bags and not talking about his feelings over helping Laura any day.

 

***

 

Derek knows exactly when Laura edits the footage from the shoot because he gets approximately eight thousand text messages all in the same vein of _JESUS DEREK I’M YOUR SISTER I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO SEE THIS DID YOU AT LEAST GET HIS NUMBER???_

He deletes every single message with prejudice.

 

***

 

“So you helped Laura out with her film, huh?” Erica asks, not even attempting to feign innocence.

“She showed us the video,” Isaac explains. “Looks like you had fun.”

Derek looks to Boyd, waiting for whatever shit he has to say about it. Boyd holds up his hands, defensive. “I’ve got sisters. I know.” This is exactly why Boyd is Derek’s favorite.

“It’s not a big deal,” Derek says. It’s not. By the time he’d gotten home from the shoot he had mostly convinced himself of that. So what if his relationship track record was all crash and burn? And never in all of Derek’s life had he ever kissed someone and thought he could just keep kissing them forever, life and work and sisters be damned? Stiles had signed up to kiss a stranger. Who knew what people who did that were actually like.

“Sure it isn’t, man.” Isaac slaps Derek in the shoulder, expression faux understanding.

Derek rolls his eyes and even Boyd laughs at him. After Derek murders his sister, he is seriously investing in new friends.

 

***

 

 **To Derek:** Seriously, I’m happy for you

The text from Erica comes once Derek is safely inside his apartment, away from his sisters and his friends and strangers who were really, really good kissers.

 **To Derek:** like in a totally non asshole way

 **To Derek:** we were all worried that you would never love again

 **To Derek:** and become a weird spinster who owned a lot of cats

 **To Derek:** it’s nice to know that you can love again

Derek turns off his phone.

 

***

 

The video, of course, goes viral.

“Like an STD,” he remarks when Cora pulls out her laptop to show him and Laura the number of hits it’s gotten in the past twenty-four hours.

Laura punches Derek in the arm and Cora laughs. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

“People just like watching real people be adorable instead of famous attractive people selling jeans,” Laura huffs.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Because encouraging casual hookups is the way to prevent the spread of STDS.”

“We should add ‘remember to wrap it before you tap it’ to the end,” Cora suggests. “That way we’d be viral but not unsafe.”

Laura cuffs Derek and Cora both on the backs of their heads. “You’re both assholes.”

Derek and Cora look at each other and shrug. The way Derek figures it, turnabout is fair play.

 

***

 

Derek’s heading to his real job bartending and not helping Laura film weird things in the name of art when his phone rings.

“We’re having a cast party in celebration of being a temporary internet sensation,” Laura says before Derek can even say “hello.”

Kneejerk, Derek tells her, “No. Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Derek. Stiles will be there.” The fact that Laura thinks Stiles’s presence will actually cajole Derek into drinking with a bunch of strangers, one of whom he’s kissed, is laughable.

“Absolutely not, Laura. You still owe me.” On the other end of the line, Laura is suspiciously quiet. “And no scheming to get me there,” Derek adds, “or I’m going to put Nair in your shampoo again.”

“Ugh, fine,” she relents. “What if Stiles asks where you are?”

“Then lie,” Derek tells her, hanging up. He’s probably going to regret saying that, but at least he never has to see Stiles again.

 

***

 

 **To Derek:** he says the kiss a stranger thing was a onetime-only deal :(

There’s a picture attached to the message. Stiles and Erica, obviously a little drunk, making duck faces for the camera.

Laura had actually shut up enough about the damn party that Derek had forgotten about it. And then, apparently, she’d brought Erica along in lieu of Derek because she was the worst sister ever. He doesn’t know why he still bothers trying to fight it anymore.

 **To Erica:** just don’t give him alcohol poisoning

Derek doesn’t bother texting Laura—that’ll only make her smug. He has another plan for her.

 

***

 

“Fucking _glitter on my ceiling fan_ ,” Laura yells. Derek pulls the phone away from his ear so she doesn’t deafen him. “It looks like there was a fucking _fairy orgy_ , you asshole.  There’s _glitter_ in my _keyboard_.”

The time Derek put Nair in Laura’s shampoo, he’d tried and failed to convince her that Cora did it because he was pissed at her too. But Cora has nothing to do with this. “Did Erica like the cast party?”

“You _motherfucker_ ,” Laura growls at him and hangs up the phone.

Derek stares at the phone in his hand; that conversation went a _lot_ better than he thought it would.

 

***

 

“He’s totally cute,” Erica dutifully reports, sitting at the bar and hoping for free drinks. Derek never gives them to her, but she lives in hope.

“Are we still on this?” Isaac asks. “I thought Derek had sworn off human affection again.”

“Erica’s still on it,” Boyd explains. “I’m going to play pool.” Boyd leaves and takes Isaac with him before Derek can stop them. They were his only line of defense, and Erica knows it. Her smile turns predatory, like she can smell a weak gazelle.

“So, is he a good kisser?”

“I’m not talking about this,” Derek tells her for the umpteenth time. “I was just doing Laura a favor.”

“Pretty good favor if you ask me. I like him.”

Derek doubts this. Erica likes leather and booze and lipstick but she doesn’t really like people. “You like traumatizing me,” he counters.

Erica shrugs. “True. But I actually talked to him, unlike someone. He’s originally from California and he’s getting his masters in anthropology.”

Derek hasn’t been in a lot of relationships, and pretty much all of the one’s he has been in have ended badly, but even he knows that a single kiss does not equal a solid foundation. Besides, to say Derek has trust issues is like saying that the sun is kind of warm. Stiles is a great kisser and he’s smart and Erica likes him, all of which would normally pique Derek’s interest, but Stiles is also the type of person to kiss strangers on a whim. Derek’s not sure what that says about Stiles, exactly, but he knows that he’s scared of it.

“Just drop it,” Derek tells her. “Or you be friends with him. It was a onetime-only deal.”

“I just want you to be happy, Derek,” Erica says, totally honest and free of pretense, the way she sometimes does, before grabbing her beer and going to join Boyd and Isaac at their pool table.

Erica’s known Derek long enough that she should know he’s not really built for happiness.

 

***

 

Laura doesn’t talk to Derek for two weeks, thanks to the glitter trick, which is totally fine by him.

At no point during these two weeks does Derek go back and watch that stupid fucking video and remember the way Stiles’s hands had felt on his face. He does not remember how Stiles’s mouth was hot and his lips were soft and Derek definitely doesn’t think about what he would have done if he’d had more time and his sisters weren’t in the room—kiss each stupid mole on Stiles’s stupid face, probably.

But Laura’s not talking to him, and Erica’s finally dropped it, and Cora couldn’t give less of a shit about Derek’s love life, so there’s no reason for him to fixate on the memory of Stiles’s laugh. No reason for him to regret not asking if Stiles wanted to maybe get a drink after the shoot or maybe kiss Derek again, off camera.

But it was a onetime deal; it would be foolish for Derek to forget that.

 

***

 

Cora calls. “Laura’s finally over the glitter on the ceiling fan thing, so you should probably kiss and make up because I’m about to strangle her.”

Normally Derek would never give in to Laura so easily, but he has to give Cora credit—she’s lasted living with Laura longer than Derek ever did. Surviving a pissed off Laura for two weeks could not have been fun. “Fine, but if she brings up the video I’m putting baby powder in her hair drier.”

“She’s been threatening to get a cat,” Cora tells him. “Just get her out of the house.”

 

***

 

Derek texts Laura and invites her to some art-house movie that he’s going to deny watching later but he’s actually been waiting to see for months. Laura, because she is both a ridiculous art snob who recognizes that Derek is the only person who’ll watch this shit with her and a person who recognizes an olive branch when she sees one, accepts.

She makes Derek buy her the most overpriced box of Mike and Ikes ever, but otherwise seems content to let sleeping dogs lie. Whatever Cora did to get Laura to cool it, Derek’s going to owe his little sister big time.

 

***

 

Of course, the person who ruins it is Derek.

“Erica said she talked to Stiles,” Derek says, the words out of his mouth before he can stop them. “At the cast party,” he adds lamely, like Laura doesn’t know exactly what Derek’s talking about.

Laura freezes, spoonful of froyo halfway to her mouth. “I thought we weren’t talking about this.”

Instead of admitting that Derek wasn’t talking about it but he’s probably been thinking about it more than Laura and Erica combined, he channels all of his middle child angst and says, “You’re the one who invited Erica.”

“Erica talked to him more than I did,” she shrugs. Derek has known Laura his entire life. There is nothing comforting about this sentence. “He asked me where you were and I told him you were at home wearing beanies and reading Jack Kerouac novels to regain your hipster street cred.”

“And that’s it?”

“I’m not the one who split a bottle of tequila with him,” Laura tells him around a mouth full of froyo. “Ask Erica.”

Derek’s had nightmares that start this exact same way.

 

***

 

Derek has been friends with Erica long enough to know that the best was to get any good information out of her is to get her away from Boyd and Isaac and to buy her something shiny.  And, well, Derek’s probably a little desperate because he buckles under and shows up to Erica’s apartment with the two things he knows Erica can’t say no to.

“Tequila and a gift card to DeMask. Did someone catch you dancing to Beyoncé again?” Erica accepts her bribes and lets Derek into her apartment.

Facilitating Erica’s terrifying leather obsession is not Derek’s favorite thing in the world, no matter what snide remarks Cora makes about the number of leather jackets Derek owns. Erica knows as well as he does that he’s angling for something big.

Derek sighs—he’s come this far, even if he wanted to back out Erica wouldn’t let him. “What’s Stiles like?”

“Oh sweetie.” Erica holds up her brand new bottle of tequila. “What say you and I open this, and I’ll tell you everything?”

 

***

 

The next morning, Derek wakes up facedown on Erica’s tiny ass couch, her cat licking his face. He can hear Erica showering and Derek resolves to never drink away his feelings ever again—every time he does he wakes up on Erica’s couch with the worst hangover of his life. It’s like drinking with her somehow _lowers_ his alcohol tolerance.

But Erica told Derek everything she knew about Stiles—what he liked to drink and how he could tie a knot in a cherry stem with his mouth—and then she pulled out her laptop and they spent the rest of the night Facebook stalking him. Derek now knew a couple key facts about Stiles. Like how he was 5 years younger than Derek and seemed to have a pretty tightknit group of friends and played lacrosse in high school.

Part of Derek hoped that he’d find something bad about him—owned a Chihuahua, liked cilantro, listened to Celine Dion—but instead he found pictures of Stiles smiling, arms slung around friends’ shoulders. There wasn’t a deal breaker in sight except, maybe, that Stiles seems like the kind of guy who deserves someone more put together, happier than Derek.

 

***

 

It costs Derek about five hours of having his ass kicked in _Call of Duty_ , three bags of Doritos, and two liters of Dr. Pepper, but Cora lets Derek use her computer and her Facebook to check up on Stiles. Just once in a while. Not a lot. Nothing creepy.

“You should teach a master class in creeping,” Cora says, eating Doritos loudly and reading over Derek’s shoulder. “I don’t know. He looks squirrely to me. Also, his name is Stiles Stilinski.”

“You’re Cora and your sister’s Laura,” Derek points out. “We have three cousins named Derek.”

Cora shrugs. “Whatever. It’s still a terrible name.”

Derek clicks out of the page. Maybe Cora has a point.

 

***

 

Cora’s not around when Derek clicks on Stiles’s Facebook page and finds his relationship status updated from _single_ to _in a relationship with **Malia Tate**_. And because Cora’s not around, Derek feels totally justified in slamming her laptop shut, punching the door, and stomping to the gym like maybe he can exercise all of his weird, repressed relationship angst out of his system.

 

***

 

“I say this out of love and as your sister,” Laura says, which never means anything good. “Dude, you need to get laid. Your hair is more angst filled than usual.” Derek ducks out of the way before Laura can ruffle his hair. He spends way too much time on it in the mornings to let her ruin it.

“Remember when Mom talked to us about boundaries? This is what she meant.”

“I’m just looking out for you, baby brother,” Laura scoffs and Cora rolls her eyes so hard that Derek’s actually concerned she’s going to sprain something.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Derek tells her, going back to reading his book. “You can go back to trying to convince Cora to watch _The Notebook_ with you again.”

This time, Laura and Cora both rolls their eyes at him. “Even I’m not buying that,” Cora pipes up. “I was going to ask if they discontinued your hair gel again, but then I realized I didn’t care.”

Derek scowls at both of them. “They didn’t discontinue my hair gel. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m fine?”

“Enough that we believe you,” Laura tells him seriously, but at least she drops it for now.

 

***

 

“Erica’s going to stage an intervention soon,” Boyd warns. “She says you’ve taken brooding to a new artistic level.”

If Boyd’s warning him, then the situation has to be dire.

“I’ll be fine,” Derek tells him, because at least Boyd knows how to keep his mouth shut. “It’s just something stupid. I’ll be fine.”

Boyd buys him a beer and doesn’t ask about it. Derek resolves to get over it.

 

***

 

He watches the video one last time. It’s sort of like goodbye.

 

***

 

Okay maybe he watches it more than that, but that’s between Derek and his internet service provider.

 

***

 

Everything does, actually, go back to normal. Well, sometimes Derek steals Cora’s laptop to go on Facebook, but that’s neither here nor there.

“You know you can just get your own Facebook, don’t you?” Cora asks. Derek’s bought her so many food bribes in the past three months that he’s actually worried she’s going to get diabetes or a heart condition or something. At least she hasn’t told Laura about this yet. “Like, there’s not a quota of Hales allowed to have an account.”

“Go away, Cora,” Derek tells her. There’s five new pictures of Stiles and Malia being adorable together. Derek feels justifiably grumpy, but of course Cora just keeps standing there—Derek can feel her judging him—so he adds, “I can’t get a Facebook, even if I wanted to. Erica hastoo much blackmail material on me.”

Cora shrugs. “I’m pretty sure that picture of you in a tiara was her profile pic for a while, but whatever. Creep away.”

Honestly, Derek doesn’t know why he hangs out with any of these people.

 

***

 

It’s September by the time someone finally slips up.

Derek’s at his usual midweek drink with friends when Isaac asks, “Are you coming to—ow, goddammit, Erica, that hurt.”

Erica does not look at all remorseful about punching Isaac in the arm so hard that there will probably be a bruise for at least a week. She graciously ignores Boyd slowly moving his chair away from her in favor of smiling sweetly at Derek. It’s not a great look on her. “Oh no,” she answers for him. “Derek’s busy that night.”

Derek does not say _I am literally never busy_ because even he recognizes how lame that sounds. Besides, the last time Erica didn’t invite him to something, it was to Cora’s college graduation party, and that ended up with the cops getting called. Derek is fine with being left out of any and all of Erica’s schemes.

But, still, he’s always lacked a sense of self-preservation. “What aren’t I going to?”

Boyd and Isaac share a look, and even Derek recognizes it—it’s the _we should tell Derek but we’re chickenshit and terrified of Erica who is, understandably, terrifying_ look.

“Nothing,” Erica demurs. “Just a party. You hate parties.”

Derek doesn’t believe this in the slightest.

 

***

 

“You didn’t know?” asks Laura, catching one look at Derek’s face—mouth open, eyes like saucers,  staring at Cora’s laptop—and rolling her eyes. “They’ve been hanging out for months. Something about Batman and Catwoman.”

There are thirty new pictures on Stiles’s Facebook and Erica is in most of them, Isaac and Boyd lurking in the background. Apparently, Erica wasn’t lying about going to a party; she just left out who was on the guest list.

“Besides, I didn’t think you ever wanted to see or speak of him again,” Laura adds, because she is a terrible person and it’s all her fault to begin with.

“I didn’t.” Even to Derek’s own ears he doesn’t sound very convincing.

Of course, that’s exactly when Cora chooses to wander into the room. She looks at her laptop, Derek, Laura, her laptop again. “I see Derek found out,” she says. “Is this a Ben & Jerry’s chick flick thing, never to be discussed again?”

Derek can’t stop clicking through the pictures—Stiles and Erica dancing, Stiles and Erica and Malia laughing, Stiles clearly picking a scarf-related fight with Isaac. Laura pets his head and takes the laptop away from him. “I think it’s for the best.”

 

***

 

“See, Stiles is like Katherine Heigl,” Laura says halfway through _27 Dresses_. “And you’re James Marsden and Malia’s that other guy, the one with the sexy voice.” She pats him on the knee, getting sticky ice cream residue all over Derek’s jeans. “You just maybe need to actually talk to him and stop Facebook stalking him like a total creeper.”

Derek scowls into his pint of Chubby Hubby. “I don’t want to. It’s stupid.”

“Look, you’re going to run into him eventually,” Cora snaps, clearly past her limit of sibling bonding and Katherine Heigl movies. “Erica’s not actually capable of maintaining friendships just to prove a point. She’s actually friends with Stiles and since you only have, like, three friends, that means you’re going to end up being friends with him eventually.”

Laura nods, like Cora spouted off sage advice and wasn’t just effectively telling Derek to pull his head out of his ass. “Listen to the tiny, angry one. She knows things.”

“It’s all your fault anyways.” Derek stabs viciously at his ice cream. Something clearly needs to pay for all these feelings he’s having. “You and your stupid hipster video.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. That video got mama three different gigs and is buying her a new bed. Now shut up, something romantic’s going to happen and I want to know if I can actually hear Cora roll her eyes.”

Cora flips Laura off and Laura tucks her feet under Derek’s thighs and sometimes Derek really does love his sisters. Even though they’re hellions and it totally is all Laura’s fault.

 

***

 

Erica choses to pretend like she wasn’t hiding her burgeoning friendship with Stiles all along. Either Laura or Cora must have given her a heads up, because she texts Derek the next morning.

 **To Derek** : Stiles said he was sad you couldn’t make it

 **To Derek** : I told him it was because you had to fill your quota of brooding for the week

 **To Derek:** I think he thought it was cute

Derek stares at his phone and he thinks about what Cora said, how Stiles is going to come crashing into his life one way or another. He thinks about months of Facebook stalking and awkward pining and realizes that he is in no way, shape, or form capable of handling this like a reasonable adult.

 **To Erica:** we’re not talking about this

 **To Erica:** let me know when he breaks up with his girlfriend

 **To Derek:** sure thing tiger ;)

 

***

 

Erica does, genuinely, invite Derek next time she’s hanging out with Stiles.

“Malia’s not going to be there, but Isaac will be,” she explains. “It’s great because I’m pretty sure they hate each other.

“Thanks,” Derek tells her, “but I’ll pass.”

 

***

 

In a surprising moment of self-control, Derek does not steal Cora’s laptop the next morning to see what Facebook has to say about it. Even Derek’s capable of realizing when enough is enough and Stiles being a real person—not just a stranger with the greatest mouth and hands and laugh of all time—is enough.

 

***

 

This does not mean that, mid-October, when Erica texts—

 **To Derek:** Malia and Stiles are officially no more

—that Derek doesn’t do a little fist bump and then wear his roomiest pair of jeans and favorite leather jacket for a week in celebration. He doesn’t even yell at Laura when she pinches at the extra fabric and asks if Derek has an ass underneath all that denim.

It’s a good week.

 

***

 

But seriously, after that everything goes back to normal.

Derek even stops Facebook stalking Stiles. Mostly because Cora had said, “You’ve got me so stocked up on Doritos and pudding cups I am prepared for the apocalypse,” before kicking him out of her apartment.

Also Erica keeps Derek so religiously updated he’s actually a little concerned that she’s breaking into his apartment at night and sniffing his socks or something.

“If I have to hear one more thing about Stiles Stilinski, then we are not hanging out anymore,” Boyd threatens one night after Erica’s now customary recap of all Stiles-related activities for the week.

“He’s not even that great in person,” Isaac says and then adds, because he’s an asshole just like the rest of them, “Kissable lips aside, Derek.”

“Don’t forget about his arms,” Erica adds, because she’s incorrigible.

Derek frowns at all of them. “I hate you all,” he tells them. None of them seem to mind.

 

***

 

Regardless of Derek avoiding any and all events that Stiles might be at, he has never been that much of a social butterfly. His mom used to call him _socially awkward_ and the therapist he had in high school said that he was _unsure of how to form stable, honest relationships outside of the family structure_. Cora and Laura liked to call him a hermit who was capable of charming surly diner waitresses and nobody else.

Derek just says that he doesn’t like drinking with strangers who are going to grab his ass and try and make him dance to Rihanna. So, no parties. At least none of the terrible raves that Erica calls parties, because they always involve the loudest music and handsy guests and Derek always, _always_ ends up being the responsible person bringing someone’s sad drunk ass back home.

Boyd, though—Boyd and parties is an entirely different matter.

 

***

 

“Nothing crazy, just friends, and Erica hasn’t been let anywhere near the planning with a ten-foot pole,” Boyd assures him. “My sisters are in town. I just think that maybe we should do something for New Year’s that isn’t getting drunk in your sad apartment.”

“And your loft’s better?” Derek asks, mostly because he doesn’t even want to point out that you can’t even fit more than five people in Derek’s apartment at one time. He has no idea why everyone always ends up crammed on his shitty bed every year, like the best way to ring in New Years is to start at absolute rock bottom.

Boyd smiles. “My loft’s got roof access and a liquor cabinet stocked with everything we’ve confiscated from Erica and Isaac.”

The man has a point. Derek just doesn’t know why they didn’t go to Boyd’s last year.

 

***

 

Derek’s weak spot has always been his sisters, but if he had to pick just one, it would be Cora, every damn time.

Nine thirty New Year’s Eve, Derek rolls up to Boyd’s loft and it’s Cora who rolls open the heavy steel doors. Derek doesn’t know what she has planned, but he knows nothing good ever happens out of Boyd and Cora teaming up.

“Happy New Year’s Eve.” Cora takes the bottle of wine out of Derek’s hands and more or less shoves him into Boyd’s apartment. There’s music and people dancing and in the corner the flat screen is tuned to the Ryan Seacrest New Year’s Special.

“I don’t know these people,” Derek says stupidly.

“Alicia went to NYU. She still has some friends in the city,” Cora explains. Derek sincerely doubts that Alicia has enough friends leftover in the city to fill the loft, but who knows; Derek’s never had more than three friends at any one time in his entire life.

Before Derek can ask where the other fifty people are from and how soon is too soon to leave, Erica swoops in like the harpy she is. “Oh good, you brought wine like a total dork.” She’s leans in and kisses Derek’s cheek, no doubt leaving a smear of red lipstick behind that, after all these years of friendship, Derek still can’t figure out how to get off

 Cora laughs and doesn’t help at all when Erica proceeds to lead Derek away and pour half a bottle of Jim Beam down his throat. If Derek weren’t trying to fend off alcohol poisoning, he would probably be more suspicious.

 

***

 

He finds Boyd later sitting in a quiet corner with a beer and talking to one of his sisters.

“I thought you weren’t letting Erica anywhere near this party,” Derek accuses. He’s wearing a party hat that Laura jammed on his head and he’d take it off, but he’s not really sure he wants to face the combined wrath of Laura and Erica together.

Boyd shrugs and looks to his sister. “Olivia likes parties.”

“Alicia still has some friends around from undergrad,” Olivia adds, like that makes Derek feel better at all. She seems just as stoic as Boyd until she goes and ruins it by smiling winningly up at Derek. “You look good. How’ve you been?”

Derek books it as far away from Boyd and his sister as quickly as humanly possible. He has sisters. He knows how that conversation between them is going to go, and Derek wants no part of it.

 

***

 

Laura says, “Go dance or something, you grump,” which is so not happening, and Erica asks if Derek wants to do more shots, which is also not happening. Boyd is still giving his sister the stink eye for trying to hit on Derek and he can’t find Isaac anywhere and he’s pretty sure that he saw Cora on the fire escape making out with some ginger kid with a beard and boy is Derek going to have words with her later.

Come eleven o’clock, Derek finds himself hiding in the kitchen, swigging the red wine he bought out of the bottle like it will make any of this better.

“Hey man, nice hat,” says a voice and when Derek looks up and sees Stiles, in the flesh—Disney Princess eyes and moles and his stupid upturned nose—he chokes on his mouthful of wine and gets it all over himself.

It is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him, and that includes the time Laura walked in on him jerking it.

 

***

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles laughs, clearly not sorry at all. He has about three thousand miles of paper towels wound around his hand, trying to dab at Derek’s jacket but mostly feeling up his pecs. Derek would rather get out of this situation before his ill-timed erection makes this any more awkward than it already is. “I’m sorry,” Stiles says again, not even trying to mop up any of the wine, “I just thought that this would go a whole lot better.”

Derek forcibly takes the paper towels from Stiles and starts to mop up the puddle of wine on the floor. “Were you hoping that I’d spill the entire bottle?”

Stiles grabs the half-empty bottle off the counter and takes a swig. “No, I was hoping I’d be all, like, suave and shit. You know, seeing you again.”

“Seeing me. Again.” Derek stops mopping up the floor just to try and let this sink in. He’s got a decent buzz going, but he’s pretty sure even stone cold sober this wouldn’t make sense.

“Sure,” Stiles agrees, aggressively casual. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You probably shouldn’t listen to anything Erica tells you,” Derek warns, standing up. Stiles is so close that Derek could reach out and touch him. Could wrap his hands into the flannel of Stiles’s shirt, pull him in close, and find out if his mouth tastes as good as Derek remembers.

Stiles laughs again. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you had a Facebook like a normal person.” He hands Derek the bottle of wine, and Derek takes it, letting their fingers brush. He takes a fortifying gulp and doesn’t think about how Stiles’s lips were just there, just moments ago.

“Do you really sleep on a Murphy bed?” Stiles asks before the silence between them can grow too awkward. “Erica said that you live in the saddest studio ever and sleep on a Murphy bed and, just, I don’t know man. How does that work? Like when you bring a lady or gentleman friend home? Is pulling down your bed more or less awkward than taking off your socks before sex?”

Derek looks blankly at Stiles, trying to figure out what universe he’s in and what, exactly, is happening. “I don’t really have a lot of people over.”

Stiles takes the bottle back and takes another drink. “Of course you don’t. You just look like _that_ ,” he gestures with his hand holding the bottle and Derek prepares to catch it when it falls, “and you just hang out by yourself in your Fortress of Solitude.”

Derek shrugs. “It’s not so bad,” he tells him. Derek’s never needed a lot—he has his family and he has Erica and Isaac and Boyd. Everything else has just seemed inconsequential. Extra.

But Stiles is smiling at him now, and Derek really doesn’t know what to do about that. So he does nothing and Stiles seems content, for the moment, to pass the bottle back to Derek and drink wine with him in silence.

 

***

 

“I asked your sister where you were, at the cast party,” Stiles says out of nowhere, just as Derek had begun to think he could escape from this night unscathed except for a wine-stained T-shirt. “She said you were at home because the full spectrum of human emotion freaks you out.”

Finding himself drunker than he thought, Derek admits, “She’s not wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not so great at it either.” Stiles knocks his elbow against Derek’s and then throws back the rest of the wine. “Oh look, we’re out of wine. How do you feel about whiskey?”

And, well, Derek feels pretty damn great about whiskey.

 

***

 

Stiles, it turns out, is writing his thesis about sex. “Not just about sex, but, like anthropology and sex and culture and shit. That’s why I signed up for the video.”

“Because kissing a stranger for science sounds like a great idea?”

“Not the worst one I’ve ever had,” Stiles shrugs. “I mean, I got to kiss you and that was pretty great.”

What Derek wants to say is _you can kiss me again if you want_ , but that seems like an awkward and potentially terrible thing to say, so Derek opts for, “And then my sisters got to torment me about it for months.”

“Yeah, I got out of that one—no sisters.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but from out near the TV someone shouts, “It’s almost midnight!”

“So I came here alone,” Stiles admits as everyone out in the main area of the loft starts to count down to midnight. “And I hear you’re supposed to kiss someone at midnight.”

“You are,” Derek agrees, feeling the tips of his ears go pink.

“And, well,” Stiles shuffles closer, shoulder just ghosting against Derek’s now, “I figure I know you’re already a good kisser.”

Derek can feel himself smiling. It’s five seconds to midnight and Stiles is tantalizingly close. “Is that so?”

“Yeah sure. Do you need me to take the lead again?” Stiles asks, but he doesn’t even need to wait for an answer because Derek is there, meeting him halfway.

 

***

 

The kiss is, somehow, better than the first.

Stiles mouth tastes like wine and whiskey and his lips are just as soft as Derek remembers. Greedy now, thankful for second chances when they throw themselves at him, Derek pulls Stiles close and doesn’t let go. Stiles nips at Derek’s bottom lip and Derek sighs and Stiles keeps kissing him, doesn’t let go and doesn’t stop and Derek thinks that’s it—this is already the best year of his life.

 

***

 

(When they do break apart, breathless and with swollen lips, Stiles laughs, “I’m actually going to have to get your sister that fruit basket now,” and, “you better at least ask for my phone number this time, asshole.”

“Please, don’t bring my sisters into this,” Derek tells him, already resolved never to let Stiles go again.

“What are you going to do about it?” Stiles asks, but Derek’s already kissing him.

Laura’s never going to let him hear the end of this.)


End file.
